


Zelimpa One-Shots

by farrah_yondale



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Implied Sexual Content, tagging as mature because, this is not smut so don't get excited, you teenagers are too young for this get off the computer and go do your homework
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farrah_yondale/pseuds/farrah_yondale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've only written two so far, but God knows I have nothing else to do with my life except write trashy fanfiction</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misconduct

**Author's Note:**

> The King of Hyrule thinks his daughter and the son of a neighboring country are a perfect match. Zelda disagrees and decides to wreak havoc at a banquet she was not invited to.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is probably the dumbest thing I've ever written.

“Oops.”

The wineglass lands three stories below, shattering and splintering on some poor fellow's head. Thankfully, Zelda's ability to judge the thickness of someone's skull has not dulled a bit since her youth, and the young man leaves the “accident” with only a few cuts and curses. Both he and the young lady next to him are positively offended and glance up to see what kind of uncultured hooligan could drop a wineglass on one of Eulona's most respected guests. 

“So sorry!” she calls, stifling a laugh. They don't seem to accept her apology, but Zelda is more concerned with Impa's opinion of the whole ordeal and begins giggling incessantly to her guard. 

“Princess,” Impa begins sternly, but her straight face quickly melts into a snort. Both of them laugh, uncaring of who can hear their unbecoming sounds from the balcony.

“He could have been hurt.”

“Oh, stop, Impa. You can't agree to gate crash a banquet with me and then make comments my father would be proud of. Either you're in or you're out.”

The Sheikah reaches out for the princess's gloved hands and lifts them to her face, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I'm in, as always.” She smirks, as does Zelda. One thing the princess of Hyrule likes about Impa is that she never passes up a chance to flirt. Their eyes linger for a moment on each other's, till Zelda breaks whatever it is the two of them are fantasizing about in their minds with talk.

“Enough, darling.” Zelda strokes her guard's cheek with an appeasing finger. “We need to present how offensive and ill-fitting of marriage I am to Prince Francis.”

***

Impa hears a loud splash and a mortified gasp. Knowing the culprit to be Zelda, she has to turn her head, hand over her mouth to conceal the laugh. A sea of red wine is seeping into the aquamarine dress of one of the guests, and more than a few heads turn at the drama.

“Oh, please forgive me!” Zelda waves her hands, apparently flustered. The woman and her friends are all shocked, with the exception of one gentleman, whose face does not seem to understand what emotion is. She recognizes him immediately. “I'm so clumsy, I—”

“And who might you be?” the gentleman interrupts. 

Zelda watches in horror as his lips purse and his nostrils flare. He looks the utter definition of boring. She can't imagine having to spend the rest of her life with him. 

“Princess Zelda, of course!” She doesn't blame him for not recognizing her. She spent most of their evening getting to know each other hiding behind Impa. 

“Zelda? We didn't invite any Hylians to this banquet.”

“Well, I didn't think I needed an invitation. I'm going to be your future wife, so I just assumed...”

She leaves it at that, trying to think if there's anything ruder she could have said. But she is at a loss for words, as she usually is around this prince. If speechlessness around someone is an indication of being a perfect match, she can understand why her father was under that impression. 

But honestly, if her father knew anything about her, he would know she becomes the exact opposite of shy around people she loves. Take Impa, for example (or that young stableboy she had courted a few years ago, but that is entirely embarrassing and Impa gets kicked in the shin every time she mentions him). 

“Well,” Prince Francis continues, ignoring the screeches of the woman next to him. “You're welcome here, princess. Please enjoy yourself.”

Zelda turns to her guard and pouts. Not the reaction she wanted. 

She takes up another glass of wine from one of the waiters, politely. She makes it a policy never to be rude to servants, no matter what the situation. And anyway, being rude to servants is a symptom of being a normal royal in most countries. She wouldn't gain anything from displaying ill manners to the lower class. 

“What next?” Impa asks. Zelda downs the red liquid in one gulp. 

“Ugh, I don't know, I—” She lets the wineglass slip upside-down between her fingers. The last remaining drop of wine plops to the floor, leaving a dark stain between them. A grin crosses her face. “Let's dance.”

Zelda tugs on one of Impa's frilled sleeves, forcing the guard's hand on her hip while sliding her own up the Sheikah's arm. Their opposite hands meet without any prompting, Zelda's powdery white fingers twining around Impa's bare dark skin. 

Impa cranes her neck and whispers lightly into the princess's ear, “How affectionate am I allowed to be?”

“As much as you like.” Impa takes that as permission to lay kisses on her neck. The feeling is satisfying; Zelda's dress has been tempting her all evening. 

The display of affection would have been appalling if it had been a man kissing Zelda, but it is doubly so since they're both women. Eulonians are much less tolerant for such affairs than Hylians (and Hylians are well-known for being stringent about such things. Gerudos always deal with this problem when they try to court Hylian soldiers). 

They hear a throng of uncomfortable mutters. Many of Eulona's respected guests seem to be dying to say something, but only one young lady has the courage to actually do so. “That's two women!”

Their grips tighten in attempt to keep themselves from tearing apart and caving over with laughter.

“Isn't that the Princess of Hyrule?”

“Isn't she supposed to be betrothed to Prince Francis?”

All the gossiping draws the attention of the aforementioned prince. Although he seems hesitant about breaking up the pair, someone shoves him forward and shouts, “On with it, man!”

He approaches the couple, arms folded behind his back and says quietly, “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” Zelda responds, not bothering to stop. 

Prince Francis extends a hand. “Um, would you like to dance with me?”

Zelda gives him a sour look, wrapping her arms around her partner's neck and pressing her hips against the Sheikah's. Impa has to bite her tongue to keep herself from doing something inappropriate.

“I'm busy,” the princess snaps. 

The prince clears his throat, glancing back at the expectant crowd. “Well, then. That's fine, I suppose.”

“You're not jealous?”

“Hm? No, why should I be? She's your guard, is she not? And you have known each other since childhood. I'm sure there's much about your relationship I could never hope to understand.”

It is Zelda's turn to be personally offended. Her eyes widen at the prince, but he takes no notice. “Carry on then,” he concludes and excuses himself. Zelda halts their dancing and drags Impa's arm back to the balcony, the rest of Impa trailing behind like a rag doll. 

“Princess, what—”

A few heads turn as Zelda slaps her hands to her face and lets out a screech.

***

“How could he be so dense?”

Zelda wafts herself lazily with the paper fan she stole from some unsuspecting noble. The princess has half a mind to get up and pick a fight with the nearest gentleman after her last unsuccessful venture to convince the prince of Eulona that she's a baboon incapable of marriage. But Impa's lap proves to be too comfortable, and the night air is cool, and there is a sufficient lack of chatter out here and a plethora of other reasons she doesn't bother to list in her mind of why it would be much better to just enjoy her last moments of freedom.

Zelda had spent the last hour staggering about drunkenly, blurting out some of the most embarrassing collection of sentences Impa had ever heard her utter (keeping in mind that Impa is her lover and has heard plenty of shameful pillowtalk). And still it did not seem that Prince Francis's interest in Zelda had waned. 

Zelda shifts her position so that her face is digging into Impa's abdomen and begins screaming. Impa sighs, hesitantly patting her head. She isn't sure how to react to the princess's muffled drama. Under normal circumstances, Impa would have told her to behave, but the purpose of this evening is to do the exact opposite of that, and honestly, she feels rather useless in terms of advice. She has always been responsible for preserving the royal's reputation, not ruining it. 

Their tender moment of Zelda shrieking into her guard's tunic is interrupted by some noblewoman swinging towards them.

“Excuse me?” She fans herself with a lilac ornament that matches the one in Zelda's hands. “Would you happen to be Princess Zelda of Hyrule?”

“Yes, I happen,” the princess croaks, trying to contain the amount of cheek she puts in her words.

“Well, Prince Francis is looking for you.” Content with this, the lady curtsies ever so slightly and then sways off. 

“Oh, the horror.”

***

Zelda flinches as the tiny lady she happens to be passing by lets out a shrill scream of laughter. The princess takes a moment to compose herself, wondering how someone so small could emit something so loud and why she bothered dragging herself out of Impa's lap for this nonsense.

She catches sight of Prince Francis and prays to the goddesses that this conversation ends quickly.

“Ah, Princess Zelda, there you are. I wanted to tell you. I just spoke to my father and he is allowing me to speed up the wedding. We can get married sooner.”

“What?” Zelda's sober exclamation is louder than any of the drunken ones she had been faking all evening. “But-but...”she stutters. “The dancing and-and the...me being clumsy.” The princess looks on in disgust as he takes her hands in his, as if he is a sentient bipedal octopus trying to seduce her instead of a normal human man. 

“Zelda.” He forces a smile. It looks more like he's gritting his teeth than displaying happiness, but Zelda has to give him credit for trying. “I really like you. You're so lively, and I know that perhaps your behavior isn't the most proper but...that's what I like about you. The royals here have no personality and I know I seem like one of them to you but...I would really like someone like you to give our country some life.”

She stares at him for a moment, not sure whether she should be complimented or insulted, given that her behavior this evening was mostly an act.

The princess of Hyrule slips her hands out of his grasp. “Prince Francis, I should probably have been more forthcoming with you. But what you saw tonight is not me, and I don't mean to say that out of embarrassment. The truth is that I have spent all evening acting uncivilized to convince you not to marry me. Perhaps I should have been honest from the beginning, but I have no interest in marrying you.” 

If Zelda is correct in judging the subtle changes in the Francis's emotions, his face is slightly crestfallen after this statement.

“I see.”

There is a brief pause, which Zelda uses to survey an escape route from this awkward exchange.

“I just have a question. Do you really love your guard, or were you just using her to upset me?”

“Of course I love her!” Zelda snaps in her first display of genuine anger that night. 

“Pardon me if misinterpret your anger, but you seem unnaturally defensive.” His voice is matter-of-fact. “Because I know the fate of every ruler is to marry another noble and produce an heir. Unless you intend to continue your relationship when that happens, she'll most likely be cast aside. And you don't seem like someone who would marry a man you don't love, even if he had no problem with your relationship. Otherwise, you would have agreed to marry me.”

It is a thought that has been haunting the princess since she and her guard first started courting each other, and it is not one she likes to dwell over. In that moment, the princess realizes that Prince Francis was not dense. In fact, he was more perceptive (and more open-minded) than she had given him credit for.

She is struck once again into silence. But Prince Francis seems altogether less interested in the conversation now that he has said his piece and excuses himself with a half-bow. 

Well, at least her prayer to the goddesses has been answered, but she still can't help thinking over his words and storms out of the banquet hall fuming. How dare he, how dare he. She tries to hide the fervor in her walk, remembering that she no longer has any gain from acting uncharacteristically uncivilized. How dare he insinuate that she thought of her guard as a...plaything?

She sees Impa on the other side of the hall, waiting, apparently, and Zelda begins to rush towards her. 

“There you--” Impa is silenced as the princess tugs down on the Sheikah's collar and kisses her full on the mouth. She does not break away, even as her lungs beg for air. 

Finally, she lets go. A few people are staring, praying that Impa is a man, but the two lovers pay them no mind. 

“I'm assuming it went well?” 

“Yes. The marriage is off.”

“What did you do? Seduce his father?”

Zelda shudders at the thought. “I just told him.”

The reaction Zelda feared is exactly the reaction Impa gives her. She narrows her eyebrows.

“See, if you had just done like I had first suggested and spoken directly to him about the matter, all this drama could have been avoided.”

The princess waves a hand. “Oh, shush, love. It was more fun this way.”

*

Zelda's eardrums are humming. After all that noise, the cool night air is a relief to her senses. The only sound is the faint clopping of the mare they ride and cicadas chirping around them. 

The princess tightens her grip around her guard's waist, head resting on her shoulder and lets out a yawn. She is thoroughly exhausted from causing so much uproar and would have fallen straight to sleep had Impa not disturbed the silence.

“What did he say to you?”

They had settled for one horse because firstly, her father would have known exactly what mischief the two had conjured had two horses been missing and secondly, well...(let's just say it had something to do with what Zelda's hands could access). 

“Hm?” Impa's shoulder has always made such a wonderful pillow, she thinks to herself. “Who?”

“The prince. He said something to you, didn't he?”

Ah, the drawback of closeness, Zelda thinks. She knew it would be pointless to hide her concern over their relationship for so long. She had even suspected at one point that Impa had known about it, but Impa possessed an abundance of patience and rarely ever pried into Zelda's business. 

“Yes,” the princess admits. “He...foreshadowed that I would cast you aside once I became bored with you.”

Impa says nothing for a moment, and the princess fears that perhaps this thought really had never occurred to her guard. And now that it had, she might be considering the truth in it.

“Well, he may be more perceptive than you originally imagined,” she finally replies. “But that doesn't mean he's correct about everything.”

“But, he's right. I will have to marry one day and we won't be able to...”

“Princess, that is in the future. It is not for you to worry about now.”

“But...it's not fair to you.”

“Fair to me?” She almost laughs. “I am a Sheikah, a lowly guard, who is reduced to the filthiest tier of Hyrulean society. I consider myself blessed that you have given me attention and love for the past few years, when I should be afforded nothing of the sort. Whenever you choose to leave me, I will gladly accept the end to our relationship.”

Zelda sighs. “This is what I don't like about you, Impa. You always turn everything into your duty. What do you want? Don't you want to be with me?”

The Sheikah's back seems to stiffen momentarily. Impa is not one to let her guard down, never one to be completely exposed and tender, not even when she and the princess are together. 

“Yes,” she murmurs. “I do.”

They ride on for another hour in silence, till the outline of Hyrule Castle focuses on the horizon. The sun begins to peek over the forest, and Zelda squeezes her hands, as though it might slow time down. 

“If you'd rather not leave me,” Impa begins, her voice light. “I can always disguise myself as a prince from another country, and we can fool the rest of Hyrule for the entirety of our reign.”

Zelda laughs. “I like that idea.”


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This is the one with a major character death)

There was no noise in this dark, dank pit save for the labored breath of a dying woman. She inhaled sharply, lungs trying to compensate for all the blood leaking out of her abdomen, but no matter how many gasps she took, no matter how much pressure she applied to the skin below her fingertips, it was to no avail. A wave of dizziness spread over her mind. She was familiar with this feeling, although this time, she was quite sure it would be her last. 

How could this have happened?

 _Feelings_ , came the familiar scoff of the captain of the Hylian guards, his eyes sparkling with derision. _Such arrogance_ , she had replied, _for the captain of the most cowardly of men_. What right did he have to lecture her about emotions hindering a soldier in battle, when the worst of her people could outperform the best of theirs? _Hylian men_ , she had added in disgust. 

Emotions, the Hylian line of thought went, were a hindrance in battle. Detach yourself from them, and you would be an excellent soldier. Well, just like you wouldn't follow the advice of a Goron on how to swim, hardly anyone in Hyrule took a Hylian soldier's advice seriously. She had caught a group of seven-year old Sheikah tittering incessantly after hearing this line. Their leader had moved to smack them, until the Princess of Hyrule herself had started giggling, eyes brimming with amusement, impelling her not to reprimand them. 

Maybe that was her flaw. The fact that her mind wandered back to _her_ even when she was on the cold, hard cobblestone dying. She wished with a pang of regret that she might be able to see the princess one last time. 

The Goddesses must have felt a particular sort of mercy that evening, for as soon as she thought this did the door burst open and an armored blonde burst through, hair braided and tightened into a crown on the back of her head. 

She had braided that hair herself that morning. Brown fingers twining around smooth, straight silk, untangling themselves only when the Sheikah had to smack the princess on the head for refusing to sit still. 

_Can I wash your hair?_ What a strange request. The Sheikah had grown accustomed to all the unfiltered thoughts that crossed the princess's mind and completely ignored the question, continuing to admire the hair she had so patiently groomed over the last twenty years. _Really! You always take care of me. I want to take care of you for once._

The princess's mouth formed her name, two syllables vibrating off the walls of the dungeon. The only answer she received was a series of gasps that could not muster the energy to reply with hers. 

The dying woman felt warm arms circle around her. Warm, for some reason, despite all the cold metal they were enclosed in. She only realized she was shivering when the princess steadied the woman's head over her breastplate, soft hands squeezed around hers.

Light filtered through the curtains of the princess's bedchamber, landing over the Sheikah's eyes. She stirred, half-conscious, aware of the princess's warm body against her back, her breathing shallow and soft against her bare skin. Her mind drifted back to the night before, teeth tugging on flesh, mindful not to leave marks. _Otherwise_ , the Sheikah whispered into a kiss, _I'll have to go into battle tomorrow with a scarf tied around my neck._

The was the least of her problems now. 

“It's all right.” The familiar voice of the princess in her ear. “The medic will be here shortly. You're going to be fine...Just hold on.” A faint blue glow illuminated both their faces for a fraction of a second. The princess sighed. Her magic must have been too weak after all that fighting to even manage a simple healing spell. 

“Princess....” the Sheikah breathed. Heavy eyelids dragged open. But there was no princess hovering over her, and she understood. The hallucinations, the moment of clarity a moment before death. She really was going to die. 

_Promise me_ , she had said, arms wrapped around the Sheikah's waist, forehead pressing on her sternum, _Promise me you won't die._

 _I promise._

She had broken her promise.

Hours later, Princess Zelda walked into the room and found a woman sprawled out on the hard floor, no longer gasping for breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this make you cry or was it just really dumb?


End file.
